


(when you first took my hand) on a cold christmas eve

by Elvamire



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputee!Erwin, Amputee!Marco, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Comfort Food, Established Relationship, Fluff, Former Angst, Friendship, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Therapy, hipster!Jean, mentions of depression, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvamire/pseuds/Elvamire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are heart-shaped cookies, disgusting sweaters, suggestive candycane-eating, annoying family and even more annoying friends, sloppy makeouts, and Marco Bodt is seeing his therapist on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(when you first took my hand) on a cold christmas eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rivkae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivkae/gifts).



> AHAHA I DIDN'T TAKE THE TITLE FROM FAIRYTALE OF NEW YORK WHAT DO YOU MEAN.  
> Partially beta'd by tumblr-user ascends-to-godtier because she's incredible at it. This is set somewhere vague in Britain and contains British words (i.e. the aforementioned beta had to ask me what a couple of things things meant.)
> 
> Kinda obviously written as a Christmas gift for BrawnyReindeer. She give me the initial plot idea because she was trying to upset me but jokes on her because now I've actually written it, and as xmas fluff no less.

“How are you feeling today, Marco?”

Levi knew how he himself was feeling: irritated. He was not exactly imbued with festive spirit, nor could he ever remember being so. Yet Hanji had decided it would be a good idea to sneak their way into his office before he got to work that morning, either to try and force the Christmas cheer down his throat or to just really, really annoy him. There was snowman bunting pinned to the pale yellow walls and a wreath hung from the top of the window that let him look down on the street when he was bored between patients. The potpourri from the wooden bowl on his desk had been replaced with candy canes and other sweets, and they’d even gone so far as to wrap silver tinsel around the legs of the pastel coloured armchairs. There were even baubles on his fucking plastic plants.

Thankfully, his current patient was the first one so far that day not to comment on the impromptu decorations beyond a small smirk.

The boy in front of Levi shifted in his chair, shrugging his shoulders. Sitting there in his old jeans and the hoodie Levi assumed was his new favourite from the amount of times he’d worn it lately, his posture was relaxed and at ease, a small smile curving up the corners of his lips. He was a far cry from the frightened little boy Levi had been introduced to nearly a year ago, sitting hunched down in his chair and looking off into the distance, refusing to engage with a world he thought had forsaken him. Marco was living, breathing, evidence of how things could change for the better, and Levi felt a small swell of pride in his chest when he looked at him.

“I’m feeling pretty good.” He smiled wider, the tan skin at the uninjured corner of his mouth crinkling.

“And the rest of your week?” Levi enquired.

He dropped his gaze from Marco, pretending to write on the notebook in his lap. He could still hear, though, and what he heard was the sound of Marco shifting on the brown leather chair; hugging his knees, if Levi knew him at all. That was another change. At the start of his counselling sessions, he’d sat up so straight and still in his chair that it looked like his spine was made of glass, and didn’t move even when Levi barked at him to relax. Marco was nothing if not full of the tangible evidence of his progress.

Some things couldn’t be fixed in the time they’d had, though.

“Not quite as good.” Marco replied quietly. Levi nodded once, and deftly changed the subject. They could always come back to it later.

“And how are things with Jean?” He asked airily, and watched Marco’s gaze split into another smile. Having had weekly updates on Marco’s life since he’d started treating him, one of the things he’d got to all but watch happen was the slow development of Marco’s friendship with Jean Kirschtein into a full-blown relationship. It had been almost sweet, if Levi had been one who cared about things that were sweet. He was more concerned about the effect Jean had on Marco’s mental state. In Levi’s opinion, it was good for Marco to feel loved, to have evidence that, scarred as he was, he could still be adored and desirable.

“Things are great.” Marco beamed, showing pearly-white, reconstructed teeth. “He’s picking me up from here tonight, actually- he’s staying over.”

Levi’s thin eyebrows perked up.

“Doesn’t Jean have his own family to spend Christmas with?” He asked.

“Yeah, but his mum’s… not exactly the most attentive parent ever. She didn’t mind him staying with me. And its my first Christmas since the accident, so my parents are pretty much bending over backwards to please me, whatever it takes.”

Levi had studied Marco’s case file extensively, so he knew that wasn’t strictly true. But Marco’s actual first Christmas since the accident had been spent in a severe burns unit, still being treated for the fire which had cost him an arm and an eye, and the skin across one side of his body.

That had been when Marco was still showing severe suicidal tendencies. The cream-coloured case file lay on the polished mahogany desk in Levi’s peripheral vision, detailing nail marks and deep finger-pattern bruises on freckled skin, open admissions of wishing he’d never made it out of his burning house. Marco had come a long, long way.

“So. It’s Christmas. You’ve got your boyfriend. Why’s the week been bad?” Levi asked, relaxing in the plush black chair and folding his arms across his chest. Across the room in the blue armchair, Marco smiled awkwardly.

“It’s just been really hectic.” He explained, looking conflicted as he spoke. Marco had always seemed to have issues with admitting other people were causing him problems. He didn’t want to hurt their feelings, it seemed, even though they weren’t in the room. “And everyone’s fussing over me because, like I said, it’s my first Christmas out of hospital, so I’m kind of being suffocated. And I know there’s going to be more family visiting while I’m off school, and I just really don’t feel like being stared at like a circus sideshow.” He sighed, resting his chin on his knees. Levi frowned.

“Do you really think your family are going to treat you like that?”

“Well I’ve kind of been a recluse since the fire, so most of them haven’t seen me since. If you saw me for the first time, wouldn’t you stare at me?”

That had always been one of Marco’s bigger problems: his self-consciousness. Levi couldn’t exactly say that there was nothing for him to be conscious of, with one sleeve pinned neatly up where his arm was gone and a scar rippling down a whole half of his body, but he didn’t like to see how aware the teenager was of it. He’d grown grudgingly fond of Marco, more so than most of his patients.

“Possibly.” He didn’t believe in lying. “I would try and have faith in your family.” Despite that, he was a lot more positive at work than he ever was at home. Try to concentrate on something you have to look forward to if they are making you uncomfortable, too. Is there anything you can think of that might help you?”

“I’m going to an ocularist in the new year for a prosthetic, finally.” Marco replied thoughtfully after a moment, already smiling again. “So I can finally stop wearing this.” He tapped the dark fabric currently covering the space where his eye was missing. "So I’m really looking forward to that.” He beamed.

“Good.” Levi smiled honestly before his grey eyes flickered over to look at the clock on the wall. It was an intricate black thing, made out of delicate metalwork surrounding an off-white clock face. It had been a gift to he and his fiancé the previous Christmas, and Levi had sneakily made off with it, insisting it would look better in his office than in their home. “Before you go; how are you doing generally?”

There was again quiet in his office as Marco considered his answer.

“Pretty good. I’ve come to terms with everything, and Jean helped me come up with the perfect response to strangers who just come up and ask what happened to me.” He said with a knowing smile.

“What is that response?” Levi smirked.

“Got in a fight with the last idiot that bothered me.” Marco admitted, going slightly pink- he wasn’t normally a violent person. Levi laughed shortly, though, and he relaxed a little. “I really have been doing better, though. Actually, I wanted to give you this.”

Levi waited patiently as Marco set his feet down on the plush carpet of the room, reaching into the front pocket of the navy hoodie and pulling out a small red envelope, bulging out at the sides, which he handed to Levi.

With simple and practised movements, Levi opened the envelope and pulled out the Christmas card inside. It was small and rectangular, like all cards, with a tree stamped onto the front which had been decorated with sequins and glitter. Inside it was a gift card- just for iTunes, nothing flashy or overly personal- and a short, simple inscription. _Doctor Rivaille. Merry Christmas. From Marco._

Touched despite the simplicity, Levi looked up at Marco, aware for once that his normal emotional mask had slipped. The teenager squirmed awkwardly.

“You’ve done a lot for me.” He explained. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, because you’ve just helped me so much. I don’t know where I’d be without out, and when you tell me you know how I feel I actually believe you. Normally I just get annoyed at people, because they so obviously don’t, but I feel like you do. I just needed to thank you for that, and for everything.”

Levi nodded once in understanding. He felt, maybe, like he might tear up, but it didn’t show outwardly.

“You’re welcome, Marco.” He wanted to say he was just doing his job, but that would have been to dismiss and diminish a moment that was too special for such callous treatment. Instead, he found himself continuing, “My job is… very important to me. I try to do my best at it because I’ve seen what can happen when other people don’t.”

Marco just nodded once, his expression perfectly solemn and serious for a sixteen-year-old. The again, Marco had been through a lot more than most other boys his age ever would in their lives.

                When Marco had opened the door to leave Levi’s office and disappear down the spiral staircase out of the building, Levi wandered over to the narrow window where the wreath hung to watch the street. It had started to snow since he’d last looked out, tiny white flakes drifting down from the dark sky and melting on contact with the pavement. A few stronger, larger ones stayed, clinging to the ground where they would soon build up.

Beneath the window, he saw a boy with two-tone hair in a bomber jacket leaning one of the lamp posts outside the building, a lit cigarette dangling from between his lips. The orange glow of the end made Levi crave one himself (he’d stopped years ago, promised he would) but even as he watched the boy looked up at where the front door would be and spat it out, grinding it underneath the sole of his oxford shoes.

Marco came into view then, hurrying to pull the boy into a one-armed embrace which he eagerly returned, resting his chin on Marco’s shoulder with a smile that Levi had to mimic. Even an idiot could have guessed this was the Jean that he’d heard so much about, and he was far from an idiot. He felt a small amount of kinship with the shorter of the pair, recognising the way he moved around Marco: easy and affectionate, but cautious at the same time. He was afraid of damaging something that had already been broken once, still working on learning his way around a body that wasn’t wholly there anymore.

The two boys stepped away from each other and linked pinkies with a shared smile, heading down the snowy street hand-in-hand.

 

***

 

It was only a little bit past five o'clock, but Marco and Jean had sat and watched out of the bus window as the sky had darkened with the setting sun, going from dusk to full night in mere seconds. There were no stars in the endless expanse of the sky, all the tiny fires cloaked by the heavy clouds which were sending swirling, dancing flakes of snow down to melt on the ground. The moon itself was only just visible, not quite full and peering out from behind the clouds with a sickly yellow glow.

They were silent on the journey, sharing a pair of headphones while Marco flicked through Jean’s iPod for a band he’d actually heard of, but their fingers were tied together in knots.

The air had a biting chill when they spilled out of the bus hand-in-hand, Marco's fingers all but blue against Jean's slightly warmer ones- he'd had the foresight to bring gloves, though the cold air got in anyway. The snow that had managed to settle on the ground was still thin, the treacherously icy pavement below showing through the whiteness. Jean slipped as he stepped down from the bus, yelping and grabbing onto the door for support.

"Such grace." Marco laughed, shaking his head as the bus pulled away. He reached out, offering his hand to him again, and watched in amusement as Jean carefully edged towards him, wary of the ground beneath his feet. His hazel eyes were wide and focused completely on the ground.

"You're such a dork."

"You're a dork." Jean retorted, maturely, but took Marco's hand again anyway as they walked down the street, picking their way carefully between patches the ice had avoided like stepping stones in a river.

The sudden change from the chilled wind and swirling snowflakes outside to Marco's cramped and warm home was instant and noticeable as the two boys spilled through the front door. The entrance passageway was tiny and forced them to press up against each other, laughing, as Marco pulled the door shut.

"Shut up, shut up." He said in between giggles, fumbling with his keys to lock the door. He felt Jean's arms encircle his waist, hot breath and lips at his ear. Teeth nibbled, and he smacked Jean playfully away. "Hey."

"Are your parents home?" Jean asked, raking his fingers through his hair. He did as he was told and let Marco go, but stayed close; he could feel his boyfriend's presence behind him, chest brushing against his back.

Marco straightened up, hanging his keys on the rack by the door and turning around to face Jean with a faint smile, reaching forwards to take his hand gently in his own. They may as well have been blocks of ice for all the heat they had, and he only hoped that Jean didn't mind.

"Everyone's home, its Christmas Eve." He replied with a slightly rueful smile as Jean groaned. “I was telling you to be quiet so they don’t realise we’re back yet. We can go upstairs for a bit.” He added after a moment, and watched as Jean’s face split into a grin.

                The boys hurried upstairs together, hands clutching and grabbing so that they were touching each other at all times as they fell through the door.

Jean and Marco had been friends since they were four years old, when they’d gone to school together and bonded the first day when they’d been sat together by the teacher. They’d gone their separate ways when it came to going to comprehensive school, but stayed friends. As a result, Jean knew every inch of Marco’s room by heart. He’d watched it go from eggshell blue walls and toys piled in every corner, to green and tidy with a desk he thought made him seem more mature, to what it was now: navy and a constant tip, the carpet rarely visible, the walls plastered with posters of classic metal bands interspersed with pop punk groups of questionable quality. If Jean every picked on the latter groups of posters, or the mess, Marco just had to remind him that he knew he had faery lights strung around the headboard of his bed, ‘like a Tumblr girl.’

“What do you want to do?” Marco asked, closing the door behind him by leaning against it.

“Guess.” Jean smirked, leaning in to kiss him, but Marco dodged his lips with a laugh.

“No, not with everyone downstairs.”

“Why not?” Jean whined playfully, gently head-butting Marco’s shoulder. He knew he was already defeated.

“I’m not exactly enthralled by the thought of my parents hearing us have sex.” He replied, glancing over at the bed. It was unmade as always, piled high with more pillows and fleece blankets than was probably necessary. It was more of a nest than a bed. “Let’s make a blanket fort.” He suggested suddenly.

There was a beat, and then Jean laughed incredulously.

“And _I’m_ the dork.” He snorted, shaking his head. “It’s… not a bad idea, though.” He admitted, stepping away from Marco to walk over to the messy bed under the sloping ceiling. “Here, grab the chair.”

Marco did as he was told, wheeling the black leather office chair away from his desk, long rendered invisible under piles of old schoolwork and books. He left it in the middle of the room, watching as Jean tugged the sheet off his mattress and tossed it over the chair, leaving one half on the bed so it presumably formed a makeshift ceiling for the fort.

“I have to sleep on that bed tonight, you better help me put everything back.” Marco said, ducking around the sheet to grab two of the cushions from the bed.

“You’re the one that suggested a fort.” Jean shrugged, his voice faux-innocent. “Now get over here and help me.”

                After an only reasonable amount of time and effort, they’d constructed something that vaguely resembled a blanket fort from what was meant to cover Marco’s bed. The sheet formed a ceiling, fleece blankets were walls and the floor was his duvet, with pillows to make things more substantial and comfortable. Jean had shed his bomber jacket at some point, revealing the teal polo shirt and ironically ugly Christmas jumper beneath. The pattern on the latter managed to look like three reindeer having a threesome, and Marco wasn’t entirely sure if it was intentional or not.

They curled up under their makeshift forts, phones turned on to cast light to see by. Turning on the bedroom lights would have been too harsh, and Marco had feared candles since the fire. The electronic, slightly blue light didn’t spread far, though, and they lay in mostly darkness together. Marco was half lying on top of Jean, his head tucked up under his chin with his boyfriend’s arm around him. His bedroom, all the way at one end of their cheap, tiny house with its draughty windows, tended to be too cold; but with the fort around them and Jean’s body heat against his back, he was comfortably warm. It felt, silly as it seemed, like a sanctuary in the storm that had been his life for the past year, somewhere safe and secure for him to be alone with the boy he’d fallen in love with. He didn’t know where he would be without Jean to pull him close and kiss his scars, a gesture worth more than anyone simply assuring him that _it’s not so bad, you look fine._ Anyone could see where his skin had melted away, but it was Jean who he truly believed didn’t care about it.

“I just realised you’re wearing my hoodie.” Jean murmured absently, absently stroking the short fuzz of Marco’s undercut.

Marco glanced down at the hoodie, dark blue fleece emblazoned with an indie band logo, before looking at Jean with a shrug and a shy smile.

“I wear it all the time. It’s like I’m constantly hugging you.” He quipped. In truth, it just made him think of Jean, and that was reason enough to wear it almost every day since his boyfriend had left it at his house.

Jean blushed slightly and laughed, hiding his face in Marco’s hair.

“You’re terrible.” He groaned, squeezing him tightly against his chest until Marco faked choking. Instead of actually releasing him properly, he simply pushed Marco off his chest and rolled onto his side, hovering above him. “Am I allowed to ask for it back?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in a way that made Marco cover his face with his hand and snort.

“Dork.” He muttered again.

                Gently, Jean curled his fingers around Marco’s wrist and pulled it away until he could see his face. His other hand was on the floor, keeping himself up above his boyfriend instead of resting his weight on him. He was still wary of doing so, always hyperaware of the textured scar tissue that marred so much of Marco.

He kissed him, just the barest brush of the lips. The scar tissue split his face almost exactly in half, and the right corner of his lips had been ruined in the fire. It wasn’t painful anymore- as he’d been told a thousand times by an impatient boyfriend- but it didn’t hurt to be careful anyway.

Marco’s hand slid smoothly up Jean’s back, dragging the fabric of his clothes so they rode up to his waist before his fingers slid through his hair to keep him in place as he returned the kiss. Jean shifted his position, settling comfortably between Marco’s legs with one hand on the floor beside his shoulder and the other at his hips, toying with the hem of the hoodie. The lips against his were soft despite their scars, and he parted his own slightly as he slid the hoodie up Marco’s chest before pulling back and breaking the contact.

“I really do want it back.” Jean said, his voice faintly teasing as he tugged the hoodie over Marco’s head. He was silent, but smiling crookedly and Jean gently ran his hands down his bared sides.

                Marco’s scars started on his face, just below his hairline, and they continued all the way down his neck and past his chest, starting to curve in towards his sides before they disappeared beneath his jeans. Jean knew that the curve continued until the scar faded away just below the top of his thigh, and he knew that it was mirrored on Marco’s back. He had memorized every inch of Marco’s body, every constellation of freckles, every blemish and discoloured patch of skin. The scars were wrinkles in the map of his skin, their colour changing constantly. Some were raised and some sunken in, some simply patches of abnormally shiny skin that otherwise looked healthy, but every one of them represented a kind of agony Jean couldn’t imagine. The first time he saw Marco sans his shirt, he had cried, thinking about the flames licking at his skin and the white hot pain every second must have been in the fire. He had nightmares about it, a dark and smoky house and Marco screaming while he burned.

Shaking those thoughts away, Jean kissed Marco again, harder this time. The fingers in his hair tightened reflexively and he made a small noise against his mouth, but Jean pulled away. Instead, he trailed his lips down over Marco’s jaw, nipping the healthy skin at his throat and revelling in his gasp before he moved along and down to the scar tissue on his chest. It was an odd feeling beneath his lips, uneven and tight yet almost silky soft. He’d grown accustomed to it, but he still recognised how strange it felt.

“Jean.” Marco said quietly, pulling gently on his hair. He remembered the first time he’d ran his lips over these scars, the ones that covered Marco’s face.

_Jean, stop. Please. It’s gross, I don’t want you-_

_No. You’re beautiful._

Still, this time Jean moved back up away from the scars, kissing Marco with parted lips. Marco’s arm went around his neck, and with a little prompting, Jean put his weight on his boyfriend, lying on top of him as he lost himself in the kiss. It was open mouthed and hungry, his fingers tight on Marco’s body, and he didn’t notice exactly at which point he lost his jumper, but it was gone now and Marco’s legs were hooked around his waist, arm above his head. Every time their lips came together there was an undeniably disgusting, wet noise, but neither of them seemed to care very much. Their hips moved insistently, drawing sharp breaths and soft groans from their lips.

                Jean had affixed his teeth to the left side of Marco’s neck in an attempt to satisfy his fixation with hickeys, his polo dragged up over his ribs and Marco’s jeans undone below him with Jean’s hand inside them, when they both realised it was lighter in the room than it had been before. Someone had opened the door.

In comical unison, they turned their heads to look through the only gap in their blanket fort and at the door to Marco’s bedroom. They were mostly hidden by the fort, but the two people in the doorway could still see Jean’s mouth on his neck. The tall brunette girl had her hands over the little blonde boy’s eyes and a smirk on her face, shaking her head.

“For shame, boys.” Luca Bodt sighed. “You almost scarred Oscar for life.”

“Can I look, yet?” Oscar chirped.

Flushing scarlet, Jean rolled off of Marco and tugged his shirt back down, the taller boy taking the opportunity to pull the hoodie back over his head and hurriedly button up his jeans again. Luca watched, one eyebrow raised, until she was apparently satisfied with their state of dress.

“Yeah, you can look.” She said.

“What do you want?” Jean asked, making a conscious effort to keep the sharpness out of his voice. As far as he was concerned, that was one time too many that Luca had stopped him from getting his leg over her brother. He was half convinced she did it on purpose- _no one_ could have timing that inconvenient, that often.

“Oscar made cookies, didn’t you?” Luca cooed, smiling down at her younger brother. “He wanted to know if you’d like any.”

                Marco pushed one of the fleece blankets that made the fort’s walls aside so that he could smile at his siblings, hair smoothed down and clothes neatened to the point it looked like he hadn’t just been crushed underneath his boyfriend for the past quarter of an hour.

“We’d love some.” He replied, beaming at Oscar and discretely elbowing Jean so he did the same.

“They’re in the kitchen.” Oscar told them excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet with the energy and enthusiasm only young children had. “They’re for Santa, but you and Jean can have some.” He said, his tone of voice suggesting he considered this a great honour.

“We’ll be down in a minute.” Marco assured his brother, waiting until Luca had escorted him back down the hall before he made a face and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve. “I’ve got your slobber all over my face, Jean. What are you, a dog?”

“Don’t moan so much next time, I won’t make the mistake of thinking you like it.” Jean quipped, squirming out of the fort, which was slowly collapsing since the destruction of one of its walls. “C’mon, I want cookies.”

                Neither Oscar nor Luca were in the kitchen when they got to it, but the cookies were, lying on a baking tray on the counter. They’d been baked in different shapes, and iced- presumably by Luca, as Oscar was too young to have steady enough hand to create designs like that.

Jean had already munched halfway through a biscuit shaped like a tree when Marco carefully picked out a heart-shaped one decorated with red and white, candy cane-esque stripes. However, before he could take a bite, one half of the cookie fell away and smashed into crumbs against the hard tile of the kitchen floor.

“Oh.” Marco blinked in surprise, not entirely sure exactly how he was meant to react to losing a half of his biscuit. It wasn’t exactly a tragedy, and yet…

“Shit, here.” Jean said through a mouthful of food, Marco’s remaining eye glancing over at him. He watched as Jean grabbed another heart-shaped cookie from the tray and snapped it cleanly in two before taking the one from Marco’s hand, putting the two halves together. They didn’t exactly fit seamlessly, and the second half had swirls instead of stripes, but Marco’s face split into a smile.

“Dork.” He muttered affectionately, kissing Jean despite his mouthful of biscuit and icing. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Jean seemed surprised, but he kissed back with gusto.

After the fire, things had been… difficult, to say the least. He had to learn how to go about his life with his sight half gone and one of his arms lost to him, and to cope with the disfigurement of his body. People could say all they liked about it not being that bad, but he knew the extent of his scars and he knew they were lying. His mind had become a dark place and he’d lashed out, sometimes at people around him but mostly just at himself.

Therapy had helped, that much was undeniable. It had helped a lot, and he probably owed his life to Dr. Rivaille. But Jean had helped too, in different ways. Jean, who often seemed oblivious to any changes in Marco, who treated him the same way he always had, and who loved him, despite his scars. It created the kind of warmth in Marco that sessions in a therapist’s office never could.

Jean had made his half a heart whole.

 

***

 

Levi’s first clue that something was amiss was the door to his flat already being unlocked when he got home from work. He frowned- or, the frown that was his resting face deepened- and edged slowly through the door, glancing around.

It wasn’t a small flat, and it actually had separate rooms. It had been his home with Erwin for nearly six years now. They’d bought it together shortly after Erwin’s discharge from the military on medical grounds, and an even shorter time after he’d proposed. Erwin kept dropping hints about getting a house, somewhere bigger, but Levi didn’t see the point. Their home was still nice, tidy and minimalist-modern, and a bigger place would just have meant more to clean.

The lights were on, up to and including the ones on their cheap-ass tree, and there were plastic bags piled high on the sofa, but there didn’t seem to be anyone home yet. That was to be expected, since Erwin wasn’t meant to be back yet, but…

“Surprise!” A shrill voice squealed, and before he had a chance to turn around Levi was stumbling several steps forward with a grunt as someone practically jumped on his back, their arms like a vice around his waist.

“Fuck!” Levi yelped, squirming and kicking backwards. He heard a laugh, and then he was realised, stumbling forwards into the centre of the room, glaring over his shoulder at the person laughing by the door. He made sure to glare a little longer than he usually would, just because of what they were wearing. There was a Christmas tree made of tinsel on the front of their white jumper, with actual baubles sewn onto it, and he hated them a little more from bringing that monstrosity into his home.

“Your reflexes are going, Levi.” Hanji teased, grinning.

“You nearly killed me.” Levi accused, huffing and brushing at his clothes. Who knows what dirt and germs Hanji was dragging around with them- it was only the other week he’d sat and watched them pick their nose in the middle of the lunch they’d gone out for.

“I don’t think a hug is going to kill you.” Hanji pointed out, their tone coloured with amusement.

“I don’t know, he is quite small and delicate.” Someone else said, from further back in the flat.

                Erwin came out of the kitchen with a faint smile on his face, glancing between Hanji and Levi and ducking his head. He either hadn’t noticed the dark look fixed on him, or chose to ignore it. Knowing Erwin, it could have been either, and Levi did know Erwin, very well. They’d been a couple for fifteen years, and engaged for six. He knew every inch of him; every grey strand creeping into his blond hair and every scar on his body, the hard muscle in his chest and the way it felt beneath his fingers when Levi ran his hand over what was left of his right arm (he remembered getting the news of it, remembered holding Erwin and soothing him when he was discharged, convincing him that the loss of the limb didn’t make him useless). Erwin was his world, the light of his life. He was the reason he took his job so seriously, the reason he was so invested in Marco Bodt’s case and the reason he felt a sort of kinship with his patient’s boyfriend despite never having met him.

“How dare you bring them here?” Levi said accusingly, pointing a pale finger at Hanji. “You’ve ruined Christmas.”

“You don’t like Christmas anyway.” Hanji supplied helpfully.

“Little Scrooge that you are.” Erwin added, overly cheerful.

“That isn’t the- hang on, what the ever-loving fuck are you wearing?” Levi blinked, noticing the… _thing_ on his fiancé’s body for the first time. He’d known Hanji for long enough now to expect ugly Christmas jumpers, and maybe even like them a little. But seeing Erwin dressed in a bright red sweater with reindeer and trees appliquéd on, and little LED lights that- oh God- _were actually blinking_ , was too much. Even the goddamn safety pin keeping up the right sleeve had a snowman on it.

                Erwin glanced down at himself, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t you like it?” He asked, faking hurt. “Hanji bought it for me.”

“It’s disgusting.” Levi said flatly, rounding on his best friend. “Why would you buy him that? Are the both of you just out to torment me?”

“I’m hurt.” Erwin said, though the tone of his voice suggested he was anything but.

“Don’t be like that, Levi.” Hanji smiled wryly, tapping his nose. “I bought you one too.”

                Levi’s eyes widened a fraction.

“You didn’t.” He blinked, but Hanji had already made their way to the shopping bags he’d noticed on the sofa, rooting their way through until they produced a square of dark blue wool.

“Here.” They chirped, unfolding the jumper and presenting it to Levi. “I think it’ll look nice on you."

It wasn’t quite as hideous as the ones Hanji and Erwin had donned, he had to admit that. There was a snowman on the front with its nose sticking out a few inches from the fabric and the snowflakes around it were sewn on in silver, glittery thread, but it was a far cry from tinsel trees and real lights.

“It looks too big.” Levi said finally. He still didn’t really want to put it on. He didn’t like Christmas anyway.

“Come on, Levi. Live a little.” Erwin said, suddenly wrapping his arm around Levi’s waist and resting his chin on his head. Levi started slightly, having not even heard him move closer.

“Don’t touch me while you’re wearing that.” Levi made a face, ducking and squirming out of the circle of Erwin’s embrace. “Fine, fine.” He relented, shaking his head as he slipped past Hanji into his and Erwin’s bedroom.

                It had only took a moment for Levi to change out of his work clothes and into a pair of tight black jeans and his new jumper (which was baggy and too long, coming down over his butt), but when he got back to the living room Hanji had migrated to sitting under their poorly decorated tree, methodically picking up each present and shaking it, while Erwin appeared to be have sorting out the shopping they’d brought in halfway through and collapsed on the sofa. Hanji glanced over at Levi when they heard his footsteps, nodding appraisingly.

“You look cute.” They said, sounding surprisingly sincere.

“Bite me, Shitty Glasses.” Was Levi’s glowing response, raising an eyebrow at their continued shaking of one of the larger gifts. “Those aren’t for you.” He pointed out dryly.

“I know, but I’m curious about what you got each other.” Hanji said bluntly.

For a moment, Levi frowned at her, and then he was abruptly yanked backwards into Erwin’s lap with a soft grunt. He took a moment to compose himself, and then pointed out,

“You’ll be here tomorrow for Christmas dinner anyway, you can see then.”

“But I want to know _now_.” They said, her curiosity insatiable as always.

“Fine. I got him a coupon for a free eyebrow wax.”

His voice dripped sarcasm, and Hanji responded to that with another, particularly persistent, shake of the box. Levi’s right eye actually twitched. “Get your grubby hands off them, I spent hours wrapping those.”

“Calm down, they aren't doing any harm.” Erwin said gently, his fingers absently trailing down Levi’s spine. The smaller man closed his eyes and arched his back, and even if it only lasted a moment, he knew Erwin would have that stupid, smug smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” Levi muttered, making sure he kept the sulkiest possible look on his face. He was facing away from Erwin, but he’d known him long enough to guess that he was rolling his eyes.

Levi turned his head, looking at the shopping bags instead of Hanji before he had an aneurysm. “What did you even buy?” He asked.

“Christmas things.” Erwin replied, rather uselessly until he amended, “Sweets, biscuits, things like that. Candy canes.”

“Candy canes?” Levi parroted, raising an eyebrow at the same time a corner of his lip quirked up in a half smile, an idea forming in his head. “Gimme.”

Erwin seemed vaguely bemused, but he dug around in the bags for a candy cane anyway, handing it to Levi before he replaced his fingers on Levi’s neck, just above his shoulders. His hand felt overly large, Levi’s body small and seeming as fragile as it did. He felt Erwin’s fingers move from the nape of his neck to his shoulder, trailing down his arm until they were dancing over the back of his hand. Those fingers then found the ring on his finger, a blocky silver band set with one small, round diamond. It wasn’t quite a woman’s ring, but it was slightly feminine despite its simplicity. Levi loved it anyway, not for the cut or the clarity of the diamond but because of what it was, because of the memories it stirred up of Christmas Day six years ago when Erwin had got down on one knee in front of his family during dinner. Six years, and they hadn’t yet made even one plan for their wedding. Erwin sometimes dropped a hint about actually setting a date and starting to at least look through magazines, but Levi always pretended he was too dense to pick up on it. In the same way he was happy with their flat, he was happy just being engaged. He saw no reason to get married- the ring on his finger was commitment enough, and they both knew they loved each other.

                Shaking those thoughts off, Levi studied the candy cane in his hand for a moment for a moment, bright white and sharp red before he slowly unwrapped it at the same time he shifted in Erwin’s lap, sitting side-on. He glanced at Erwin just to double check that his blue eyes were indeed upon him, and then looked away; lifting the candy cane to his lips and licking experimentally at the tip. Deeply aware of Erwin’s gaze on him, he feigned ignorance of it as he dragged his pink tongue down the length of the candy cane, making his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He could only be so bothered with the charade of actually eating- he hated peppermint anyway- and ended up kissing back down the length of the candy cane. He slid the sweet between his lips, smirking at the thought of Erwin watching it disappear, and pulled it carelessly back out, his tongue just clinging to the bottom of it.

It carried on for a surprisingly long time, and Levi could feel exactly how closely Erwin was paying attention by the time Hanji cleared their throat in discomfort.

“Boys, as entertaining as this is,” They said, “I think I’ll, ah, take my leave so you two can be alone.” They got up from the floor with a knowing smile.

“No need.” Levi said, his eyes flashing and still fixed on Erwin. “You don’t have to go back out into the cold just because Pervin can’t control himself.”

“It’s fine.” Hanji shook their head, and their smile turned slightly perverted too. “I have someone waiting at home for me, too. Petra’s over.”

“Don’t fuck her too loudly. Think of poor Moblit.”

“Not everyone’s as noisy as you, Levi.” Erwin said smoothly, his gaze locked with his fiancé’s.

“Alright, I’m going before the tension makes something catch fire.” Hanji said hurriedly. They both heard the door open and close, but neither of them actually looked.

                Unceremoniously, Erwin pushed Levi off his lap and onto the sofa. He may have only had one arm left, but the other man was tiny. He got up, clearing his throat and acting as if he wasn’t burning up, like Levi knew he was. Erwin was so _easy_.

“Well, I’m exhausted.” The blond said casually. Levi raised an eyebrow.

“I know it’s Christmas Eve, but it’s not even nine yet.”

“I know.” Erwin’s eyes glinted, and he quickly bent to grab Levi’s hair at the back of his head and yank him forwards, kissing him harshly and leaving him gasping. In contrast, Erwin remained composed, smiling slyly. “Come to bed. Don’t bother bringing your clothes.”

                Levi wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, watching Erwin disappear into their bedroom. Once the surprise of the sudden kiss faded, he jumped up and squirmed out of his jeans, kicking them into a corner of the room with his boxers. Some aspects of cleanliness could be sacrificed, on this occasion.

He left the jumper on as he eagerly followed Erwin, his bare legs ghostly white in the dark of their room.

 

***

 

“Marco? Marco.”

Marco woke from strange dreams of flying through the air on gas and metal wires to Jean shaking his shoulder. His bedroom was so dark he could barely even see his boyfriend’s face in front of him, and the only sound he could hear was the shift of fabric as Jean moved.

“What?” He blinked, voice slow and slurred with sleep as he rubbed at his eye. Even Jean kissing him couldn’t really wake him up, especially since his boyfriend was soft and warm against him. The sense of security he got from lying there with him where they’d fallen asleep in their blanket fort was an almost tangible thing that made his throat tighten.

“It’s like, five minutes past midnight.” Jean said with a smile, affectionately running his hand through Marco’s hair. “Merry Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> ahaha levi has no business being anyone's therapist what even is this fic. Regardless, I have such a thing for him in some kind of overly-large top, sans pants.
> 
> It's okay, Jean, I have faery lights on my bed too. I'm really tempted to write more stuff in this universe, just because I really love Jean as a hipster and I didn't get a chance to make Marco mock his skinny jeans. Also, Luca and Oscar. I know you're not supposed to use or like OC's, but... I just like Marco to have siblings.
> 
> I have a tumblr: http://elvamire.tumblr.com/


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